


You're So Vain (A Pornographic Interlude)

by luftnarp-writing (secretsofluftnarp)



Series: Crowley, Aziraphale, and the Doctor [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 'he' pronouns for everybody, Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Crack, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Genderfluid Aziraphale (Good Omens), Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Metaphysical Sex, Other, Pillow Principality Aziraphale (Good Omens), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Space Condoms, Switch Crowley (Good Omens), Telepathic Sex, Voyeurism, Wings, gender fluidity, it's not autofellatio if it's with your inexplicable clone, mindful self-indulgence, nobody gets double-teamed we take turns like gentlemen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:13:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23795935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretsofluftnarp/pseuds/luftnarp-writing
Summary: 'Cut scene' from thethe previous story(The Runaway Scone, rated T). Crowley and Aziraphale (established relationship, six months post-notpocalypse) have been drinking with the Tenth Doctor in the back room of the bookshop, and honestly, Aziraphale has been eyeing him since they met. Crowley finds this interesting for his own reasons.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley/Tenth Doctor
Series: Crowley, Aziraphale, and the Doctor [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715599
Comments: 11
Kudos: 72





	You're So Vain (A Pornographic Interlude)

"I like that," Aziraphale said, boldly. "When the psychic link goes both ways."

Crowley watched Aziraphale make steady, suggestive eye contact with the Doctor. _Don't you remember_ , Aziraphale's look said, _a few hours ago, before we went into this bookshop's back room and started drinking ourselves silly, when you touched my mind, and it was the most beautiful thing you'd ever felt? And I didn't pry, but I saw how alone you've been for so long, how much you would enjoy the company._

Maybe a look didn't say all of that. But that was the context.

And then Aziraphale looked at Crowley, with his won't-you-fix-the-stain-on-my-jacket pout, except he meant _won't you let me love him, he's clearly going to run away in the morning_. 

Crowley couldn't believe he was serious, but of course he was. Lovely, ridiculous Aziraphale, and his love of pretty, tasty things. 

And Crowley...did like _looking_ at the Doctor, with his big brown eyes in the wrong color. He seemed smaller, slighter than Crowley, but that may have been Crowley involuntarily puffing himself up. It wasn't as if the Doctor was _delicate_ ; he knew about war and death and eternity, if one counted the vastness of space as eternity. Of course he was the sort of person -- being? -- who would be drawn to what Aziraphale was. After careening through the darkness he would want to touch the light, hold it, kiss it, taste it. He and Crowley had that in common.  
  
That, and Crowley absolutely wanted to watch.

"Sure," Crowley said, casually, as if he weren't deeply curious about the sexual possibilities. "Why not." 

Crowley downed what was left in his glass, set it aside, and sat ungracefully onto the couch to Aziraphale's left. He leaned his chin on Aziraphale's shoulder, waiting. Aziraphale smiled, warm and tipsy, and surreptitiously squeezed Crowley's hand. The Doctor leaned to Aziraphale's right, playful. Aziraphale tickled under the Doctor's chin like he was a cat, before playing his fingers up toward those stupid sideburns. The Doctor put his fingertips to Aziraphale's temple.  
  
They both breathed in, closed their eyes, and breathed out. 

Aziraphale's eyebrows lifted, something pulled at the corner of his lips. He was beaming, internally. Crowley knew that happy sigh, that sunlight. _Let me show you something delightful_.  
  
The Doctor gasped, like someone who was trying very hard not to have an orgasm. Crowley wondered if that was how his own face looked in those moments, mouth hanging open, eyes squeezed shut.  
  
Crowley didn't mind it. Crowley's cock didn't mind it either.  
  
Crowley looked them up and down. Aziraphale and the Doctor were both in their shirtsleeves, the Doctor's tie loose around his neck. The Doctor was still wearing slacks, but the way he pressed up against Aziraphale's thigh wasn't hiding anything.  
  
The Doctor opened his eyes, let out a long exhale, and leaned in to kiss Aziraphale. Crowley liked that he was overwhelmed, asking, admiring. He liked that it wasn't a possessive kiss. He liked Aziraphale's little moan that was almost a laugh. 

Aziraphale kept his left hand on Crowley's thigh, and squeezed. _We didn't forget you_. 

Crowley squeezed back, biting his lip. _I know_. 

A question was fighting to the front of the Doctor's mind as he caught his breath. "Your bodies," he said. "They change." There was a glimmer of wonder in it, not concern, and there was a certain safety-seeking in the asking. But Aziraphale didn't understand; unlike the Doctor, he had worn the same face since the Creation. 

Crowley understood. "Angels are sexless unless they make an effort," he said in a low, lazy voice. He smiled slowly, savoring it. "We make all kinds." 

Crowley himself was more apt to play with his visible gender -- he was vain, and proud of how he looked in a dress -- without doing too much genital-shifting. He liked having a cock, and he was known to demonically inconvenience the sort of people who had strong opinions against people-with-cocks wearing dresses. Whereas Aziraphale tended to keep his presentation consistent -- appearing like a man to the world, even if he was ambivalent in private -- but liked his sex every which way. Crowley knew that Aziraphale had been enjoying clitoral orgasms and cunnilingus lately, which was probably what the Doctor had seen, in his mind. 

"My people -- maybe you saw -- we regenerate," the Doctor said. "One body about to die, big blast of energy, whammo! New body. Not the best feeling, makes me tired, causes amnesia, personality changes. But I always figured I'd end up changing sex. It's happened for others. Hasn't happened for me."  
  
Aziraphale put an arm around the Doctor, reassuring. "You've got time left." 

That was what made this man-version of himself seem smaller, Crowley thought. Not enough gender. Or too much of just the one. 

Not that he ought to feel _bad_ about it.  
  
Crowley looked back at the Doctor with a lopsided, smarmy smile. "Double circulatory system," he said. He had a vague interest in science, when it suited him. "Bet you can get it up longer than the average human, yeah?"  
  
The Doctor grinned. 

"Lucky for you then," Crowley said, looking at the Doctor, but his lips near Aziraphale's ear. "Because the Angel has been _insssatiable_ lately."  
  
"Oh, that's very good," Aziraphale said, struggling to keep his breathing under control. "Do keep going." 

Crowley and Aziraphale had come by safewords somewhat naturally; there was a notable difference between Aziraphale's coquettish _oh, no, I shouldn't_ protests and the time he shouted "HALT!" so sternly that several nearby birds felt the urge to stop what they were doing without knowing why. Crowley, on the other hand, had started using the names of actors; problem was, the names would invariably end up with a secondary sexual meaning and he needed to keep swapping them out. (Last week, Crowley had called out _Alan Rickman_ while getting Maggie Smith'd.) [1]

And Aziraphale had guided Crowley into giving him a certain type of dirty talk, when they were naked and comfortable: _what if someone could see you, how badly you want it, bad angel_ . Now that they were safe, truly safe, together, Aziraphale fantasized about getting _caught_. 

(Of course it wasn't only that; there was the scenario where Aziraphale would buy a piece of clothing for Crowley and demand that he strip down and put it on, right away, gaze transfixed on Crowley's body. There were the times Crowley got fucked senseless, eyes welling up with the knowledge that Aziraphale still had the ability to destroy him, but chose to love him instead.)  
  
(But Crowley was not the one to let his guard down around company. Not like that.) 

Crowley nuzzled back to Aziraphale's ear and quietly told him what he was about to do, and what he was going to tell their guest to do. He was met with a hurried, flustered, emphatic _yes_. 

He waved a hand at the Doctor. _"_ Come on, get your clothes off." 

"You're sure you don't mind?" the Doctor said, tossing aside his shirt.  
  
"You know the song _You're So Vain_ ?" Crowley asked, awkwardly pulling off and tossing aside his own shirt. Once he succeeded, he leaned forward to get back into the moment, raking his eyes over the Doctor's skin appreciatively. "That song is about _me_." [2]

Making sure the Doctor was looking, Crowley unfastened the buttons on Aziraphale's pants. He hooked his fingers into Aziraphale's waistband, pulling his pants and underwear down to his knees. Half-clothed Aziraphale felt so much more indecent than naked Aziraphale, and they both knew it. Crowley rucked up the bottom edges of Aziraphale's shirt, exposing him so the Doctor could see.

The Doctor breathed something that sounded like admiration, and Crowley's heart twinged with pride.

Crowley played his long fingers across Aziraphale's folds, the lightest of touches, teasing. He threatened to press at Aziraphale's clit and pulled away at the last moment. Aziraphale let out a whimper that could almost be described as _petulant_. 

"Naughty boy," Crowley said, smiling into Aziraphale's ear. "Naughty, needy, hungry boy."  
  
The Doctor situated himself between Aziraphale's legs -- good, he got the picture -- but first pulled himself up to kiss Aziraphale again. He was showing off now, with the long kiss, and Crowley let him, on account of the sound Aziraphale made. 

Crowley pressed his left palm into Aziraphale's thigh as the Doctor kissed up the inside of it. Threading the fingers of his other hand up into Aziraphale's hair, Crowley cradled the back of his head, and watched. He never got to see this part -- Aziraphale's gasp as the tongue made contact, the crinkle of his brow as the Doctor worked him over with his mouth. 

(It was definitely the wrong tongue, Crowley thought, and this didn't matter; his Angel could opt to eat at two-star restaurants sometimes, for the charm, for the variety.)  
  
Aziraphale squeezed his thighs together and began to tremble -- here came the good part -- and Crowley licked up the side of his neck, taking in the familiar scent. 

Aziraphale's breath became fast and shallow. Several nearby birds flew faster, without knowing why.

Aziraphale shivered and cried out, and Crowley held him as he came, conscious of nothing but pleasure. Crowley kissed Aziraphale's neck again and again, murmuring something he thought sounded nice, holding him until his breathing returned to normal. 

Crowley rolled his eyes away from Aziraphale as the Doctor started to stand up. _We're going to need a bigger couch_ , Crowley realized, and snapped his fingers. The couch took on the shape of a queen-size bed; he would figure out where the coffee table got to in the morning. 

The furniture had shifted Aziraphale to near the middle of the now-bed. Crowley beckoned the Doctor back to Aziraphale's other side. Two sets of hands undid the buttons on Aziraphale's waistcoat, then his shirt, and got rid of his remaining clothes. Crowley shucked his jeans aside. He kept the soft black underwear for now; it clung in a way he thought was flattering.  
  
"Crowley," Aziraphale said softly. It could have been a scold for manipulating the furniture so boldly, or a pouty _come here_ . Crowley leaned over and kissed him, the sort of kiss meant to remind him that there were a lot of strange things he could do with his tongue.  
  
"You want more, Angel?" Crowley said. Crowley pressed a hand between Aziraphale's legs, soft and warm, still sensitive from the attention moments earlier. Crowley pushed two fingers into Aziraphale -- firm, but tender -- and fucked him with practiced ease. He felt Aziraphale begin to tighten around his fingers. This was why Aziraphale preferred this physical configuration, it let him orgasm over and over again. _I want you terribly_ , Crowley thought. _And I want you to have everything you want_.   
  
Crowley felt Aziraphale shudder around him, his breath hitching, his face flushed. He rolled his body against Aziraphale's warm, sensitive skin. _My love is happy_. _My love is satisfied._

In the time before -- before they knew how to love each other, and before they knew that they could bed each other, enthusiastically and frequently -- Crowley's whole body would ache. He would curse his heart, his skin, his cock, for hurting, for making him want. But now that they had each other, spoke their love aloud (often over and over, for as long as they'd like), Crowley didn't hurt. His corporation has ceased to seethe with desperation. He was happy; he had time.

Which meant he could even ignore the dull, automatic throb in his cock right now, because he liked being near Aziraphale more than he needed to get off. He could tease out the feeling, play with it, see what it became. Crowley angled himself away from Aziraphale just slightly, meeting the Doctor's eyes again. He eased his own cock out, teasing it with only his fingertips, as the Doctor watched.

Aziraphale, stirring out of his post-orgasm haze, started watching him too.

"Crowley," Aziraphale admonished. "That's too much."  
  
Crowley stopped stroking himself. "Too much what?"  
  
"Too much _penis_ ," Aziraphale said, screwing up his face to force the last word out.  
  
Crowley looked down. He supposed it was bigger than usual. He hadn't done it on purpose. 

Aziraphale turned to the Doctor. "Don't feel bad," he said reassuringly. "He's just showing off."  
  
"Well..." the Doctor trailed off, not exactly agreeing.

Crowley hadn't meant to exaggerate. It was a bit long, but well within the range of a feasible human penis. Just perhaps at the upper limit.  
  
Aziraphale sniffed. "Honestly. It's not even _useful_ at that size." 

Crowley sighed. "Angel, you can just fuck him. You don't need to belabor the excuse."  
  
"My objection was sincere," Aziraphale said primly. "Also I would like to fuck him."  
  
"By all means," said Crowley, not meaning to sound defensive.   
  
"I could go," the Doctor said, sensing tension.  
  
"No, don't do _that_ ," Crowley said, tossing his head at the absurdity of it. "I mean, provided you still want to fuck the angel, and the angel wants to fuck you, then -- then you ought to! Also, I've never seen my arse from that angle, and honestly? Dying to."  
  
Aziraphale smiled, and moved to draw the Doctor to him. The Doctor motioned, _one moment_. He rifled through the pocket of his discarded jacket, and came up with a familiar-looking packet, in very much the wrong color. It was sort of...fluorescent.  
  
"Space condom?" Crowley asked.  
  
The Doctor opened his mouth to give a more technical explanation, thought for a second, and then shrugged. "Yeah. Space condom."  
  
Crowley didn't feel like getting into how Aziraphale didn't ovu -- ovul -- didn't have eggs on the inside what like humans had. If the Doctor was comfortable banging his way across the galaxy with a fluorescent dick, bully for him.   
  
Aziraphale, sitting up, pulled the Doctor to him. Crowley watched them kiss, appreciating Aziraphale's hands on the Doctor's back, in his hair. Aziraphale lay back on the bed, taking the Doctor with him. This side was a good angle, Crowley thought, watching the Doctor press his body up against Aziraphale, his mouth open, choking on nothing. But he wanted to see more.  
  
Crowley got up on his knees and knelt behind the Doctor, and that was nice. _Same bum, eh?_ he thought, running his palms over it. _Not bad_ . He reached down between the Doctor's legs and held his balls, nicely at first, and then squeezed, because he was still up for a bit of mischief, and smiled at the yelp that followed.   
  
Aziraphale shouted something. Crowley couldn't see Aziraphale's face. That wouldn't do. 

Crowley remembered that he could hover.  
  
He unfurled his wings unfurled with a snap. Crowley raised himself up, mere inches above the two other bodies, and fanned his feathers, curling around them like a dark, protective tent. He could see the Doctor sigh and gasp as he entered Aziraphale, and Aziraphale's head loll back as he tilted his hips. He saw not-his arse move as it thrusted, and Aziraphale's heel kicking into not-his back. 

The Doctor said a woman's name.  
  
"I like flowers," Aziraphale sighed.

Aziraphale reached toward the Doctor's face, with the calm expression from earlier. Crowley recognized that he was going to do the mind-meld -- er, psychic link, whatever -- again. Crowley floated down slightly, touching a hand to Aziraphale's shoulder, another near the Doctor's waist, completing the circuit between them. He didn't want to broadcast, but he wanted to listen. He closed his eyes and opened his mind just for a moment, just long enough to find the frequency, then opened his eyes again.  
  
He heard the Doctor's desperation first, the crackling madness in tune with his thrusts, a wild kind of want. He heard Aziraphale's low hum of pleasure underscoring everything else, savoring the fuck, the sensation echoing deep inside himself. The Doctor was a ship at sea, and Aziraphale was a wave. 

Aziraphale was going to crest. Crowley could feel it. He could feel the power of it building, the sensation making his corporation tingle -- reminding him he was more than a body, that he was a being, connected to two other beings, who were going to make him come without him doing a damn thing. The sensation focused in his forehead, the orgasm rippling through his mind. 

The Doctor cried out. Aziraphale cried out. Crowley cried out along with them, and fell out of the air. 

They were a tangle of warm limbs, of kissing and being kissed. _Stay with me, steady me, fill my mouth_. The Doctor was licking one of his wing-bones, which was -- oof, not a sensation he had ever thought about, but -- wow -- one he enjoyed. Their breathing rose and fell, together, until they were quiet. 

It was, Crowley thought after several blissfully comfortable moments, almost too quiet. 

After several more moments, Crowley stretched and stood up, winged and nude, and shuffled to the window. He lifted the curtain just enough to see outside. 

The streetlights were out.  
  
"Whole street's lost power," Crowley said. "Think that was us."  
  
"Ah," Aziraphale said. "Be a dear and turn them back on, will you?"  
  
Crowley snapped his fingers, and the streetlights turned back on. A neighbor's clock flashed midnight, and she would miss her alarm in the morning. 

"Seems like the intensity of our combined psychic energy creates electromagnetic interference," the Doctor started.  
  
Crowley shook his head too many times, and kept shaking it. "Nope. Sorry. It's magic."  
  
"I'm going to figure it out."  
  
"Of course you will, dear," Aziraphale said, patting the Doctor's shoulder.  
  
Aziraphale looked at Crowley. "I'd ask you to shut him up, darling," he said. "If only you'd manifested a reasonable cock."  
  
"What, that?" the Doctor said, too quickly to have given it any thought. "I can handle _that_."  
  
"Oh," said Crowley, lightly stunned, but interested. He hadn't thought about this possibility. He knew he didn't want to _make tender love_ to the Doctor, and he definitely didn't want the Doctor to make tender love to _him_ (both of those things he reserved for Aziraphale, especially the latter). He didn't even want one of the long, caring kisses the Doctor shared with Aziraphale (what if he trembled? what if he wept? that sort of thing was _not for company_ ). But if the Doctor wanted to suck his cock out of a sense of personal pride, then, well. That didn't seem like a bad idea at all.  
  
That, and Aziraphale wanted him to, so Crowley was definitely going to do it.

Crowley took a few slow steps toward the edge of the now-bed. his wings, which had hung dark and relaxed behind him, spread upwards and outwards, fingerlike feathers brushing the ceiling. _I am the shadow-creature of powers unknown to you_ , Crowley thought.

"Ah, that's lovely," the Doctor said, taking him in with his eyes, looking mostly, Crowley noticed, from wings to cock. Crowley could have gone for even the slightest tinge of fearful arousal in his voice, but there was none; instead there was a shimmer of awe, but mostly curiosity, which, in Crowley's opinion, was a perfectly good reason to have sex with someone.[3]

Crowley put a hand under the Doctor's jaw, guiding him to standing. He gave him a quick, rough kiss -- _I'm not nice!_ \-- and pulled the Doctor away before he was finished. He put a firm hand to the back of the Doctor's head and guided him downward. Aziraphale manifested a pillow before his knees touched the floor. Crowley looked over and smiled at Aziraphale, who was giving him that familiar, fixed, _let me see you_ look.  
  
Of course, my love. Of course. 

Crowley looked down in time to see not-quite-his-face swallow him effortlessly. He supposed gallivanting through space and time gave him some practice deep-throating alien dick, or something. Crowley barely had time to wonder about this before the image of sort-of-himself with a faceful of cock made him shiver. He threw back his head and moaned, loudly, exaggerating for Aziraphale's benefit. Then he felt the mouth on his cock move, and the moan became genuine. Crowley managed to open his eyes between ragged breaths to see Aziraphale masturbating furiously -- fuck, yes, good, that was what was going to get him over the edge --

He moaned again, big, loud, theatrical, and heard Aziraphale cry out in response. Crowley braced himself with his wings to stay standing. He felt the mouth below him pick up speed, sensed Aziraphale moving faster too. He heard the puff of Aziraphale's breathing, very close, and imagined him tensing, peaking under his own touch. Crowley let out a low sound, almost a yell, and gave in.

He came the human way this time, thick and wet and filthy. He drew in a long, still breath.  
  
Crowley heard the Doctor swallow. He was going to say something, and Crowley didn't want him to.  
  
Crowley pulled him to standing, smothering him a little in shoulder and wing. He embraced him chest-to-chest, holding him, keeping the moment still. Crowley felt his heart, and the Doctor's too-many-hearts. They beat out of time with each other, just a little bit asynchronous, just a little bit wrong.  
  
Crowley wanted Aziraphale.

He guided them back toward the bed, and Crowley snuggled up against Aziraphale's side. This was what he wanted, to wrap himself around the angel, warm and grounding. Crowley closed his eyes. Aziraphale was petting his back, telling him quietly that he'd done very well, 

Aziraphale had manifested a blanket from somewhere, fluffy and larger than the couch-bed, covering them all. 

The Doctor, laying on the other side of Aziraphale, reached across Aziraphale's belly to offer Crowley a hand. Crowley held it. He could feel that the Doctor meant it as a friendly gesture, stabilizing. _Wouldn't want to get in the way, mind. Like he said, I'll be on my way in the morning_.  
  
Crowley realized he hadn't imagined the Doctor saying that, but they'd left the psychic link on, like a radio playing very quietly. Crowley reached out with his mind and turned the dial until it clicked off.  
  
Aziraphale took a deep breath. 

Oh, for fuck's sake. He was going to make a pronouncement.  
  
"Darlings," Aziraphale announced. "That was excellent." 

  
  


### Footnotes

1. Getting Maggie Smith'd required significantly less cleanup than getting Judi Denched.↩

2. This is not true.↩

3. Serpent of fucking Eden, here.↩

**Author's Note:**

> Crowley did not inspire 'You're So Vain,' but the lyric " _you had one eye on the mirror and / you watched yourself gavotte_ " is oddly specific and he probably slipped it in there by accident.
> 
> Footnotes were created with thedeadparrot's footnote formatter: <https://codepen.io/thedeadparrot/full/mdyXyzw>


End file.
